Assassin's Creed III: From Humble Beginnings
by KtyouVsWriting
Summary: Connor Kenway, at first, wonders what will be of his future, who he is, but when a girl arrives at the Davenport Manor, seeking to be trained, he finds new purpose in training the future generation of the Colonial Assassin Order, and perhaps he will find a new family. Rated T for violence and language.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed. They are the property of Ubisoft. I can only say that my OC is my own.**

Chapter 1: Post-War Musings

April 7th 1783

Davenport Homestead

Post-American Revolution

Ratonhnhaké:ton was busy.

No, that was a lie.

He was not busy, at least not killing Templars, or saving his people from the American Revolution, or pursuing Charles Lee. All of his targets were dead and gone permanently, never to rise again. He was not busy helping the Patriots win a war. The war was won and the British were gone from this land, having been ultimately forced to recognize the nation now called the United States of America. He was not busy putting up with Achilles Davenport's constant prodding and persistence and banter. Achilles was now sleeping peacefully, and he missed the old man daily, much like his mother. He was not busy keeping his people safe. They had been driven out by the people he was protecting: the colonists. So what was there for him to do now?

After so many years of training, fighting, hunting, learning, evolving, and changing, he was here now. After all he had endured, after everything that he had sacrificed, after everything he had accomplished, after all the lives lost regrettably, after fighting a war on two fronts, both against the British and the Templars, it was all over, and now there was much to consider, a great deal to consider, and Connor did not know where to begin sometimes.

His people was the first thing that came to mind. More than anything, he desired their company, wanted it more than anything. He missed clan mother. Her words of wisdom had always led him to great lengths, and had guided him to begin his journey. It seemed so long ago that he had looked to the older woman for guidance as to what his path was, and he encountered Juno. Ratonhnhaké:ton, as a boy did not understand who she was and what it was she truly wanted as a result of his training, but like he would always do, he would follow and try to understand, and as a fully trained master assassin, he had been unsuccessful in keeping his people safe, and he still did not know what her true purpose for retrieving the amulet were.

Her explanations were dodgy and hazy at best. He suspected something was amiss. Something about her gave him pause, but he could prove nothing further, having only suspicion and mistrust for her now, and he could no longer communicate with her as the crystal ball he had used to speak with her was now destroyed. He still had questions for her questions, questions that would likely never be answered.

Her inability to answer his questions in actual answers but rather in riddles and preludes to a future that he could not fathom were driving his patience to the brink of collapse. Even his patience was not infinite. He did not wish to be angry, but if he could not truly understand the meaning of his work beyond defeating the Templars and protecting the colonists and his people, then it would seem that fourteen years of training was for nought.

Not only was he suffering from his inability to protect the people he swore to protect, but he now suffered from an identity crisis. Everyday ever since he had hidden the amulet where none might find it, he asked himself the same question, and did it numerous times during the day: Who was he? Was he Ratonhnhaké:ton, the Kanien'kehá:ka, the man that swore to protect their people from harm, and the son of Kaniehtí:io? Was he Connor Kenway, the Master Assassin, now the leader of the Colonial Assassins, and son of Haytham Kenway? Was he neither of these? Was he both? Who was he more loyal to: the Assassins or his people? Did it matter who he was more loyal? If so, which did he desire more? No, which was more important? Ratonhnhaké:ton or Connor would never seek his own desires. He had duties, but that still did not stop him from questioning.

Those questions swirled in his head, and he still did not have an answer, but he did have an idea. He wondered if he ever returned to his people that they would ever view him the same way as they did so many years ago. He was no longer a boy but a man. He had spent much time with the colonists that he began to speak English more, and had begun to think more as a colonist. Looking at himself in the mirror, he began to see a noticeable change in himself.

No longer did he go anywhere without his robes, unless he was captaining the _Aquila_, and even then, he still brought the robes regardless. Whenever he left the manor, he chose only to adorn his assassin robes. So much time wearing it had begun to have an affect on his skin tone. No longer did he look as dark as he was when he had arrived. His skin had become more light and now someone might easily mistake him for a colonist if they did not witness that his robes still carried the trinkets and remembrances of his people and his roots. The robes still, however, carried a heavy influence and inspiration from the colonists, and he had considered it more like a second skin than merely something that he wore.

Even if he did wish to return to his people, he had a much greater duty: to be an Assassin. As a Master Assassin, he now led the Order in the newly-born country. He now led those who had joined the Order. Six new recruits, all of them different, all of them unique, but all of them willing to fight for a cause greater than themselves. They now looked to him as their leader and mentor. Did that mean that he was now the mentor of the Order in America? Was he ready to carry this responsibility? He did not know, as being a leader was something that he was not certain was a strong suit. Others would beg to differ, like Faulkner. His first mate of the _Aquila_ would say that he was an exceptional leader. Maybe he was, but leading a ship and leading a secret order were two different things entirely.

He was pulled out of his musings and uncertainty and doubt. He did not ever doubt his abilities, nor did he ever believe himself to be invincible. He simply knew what he was capable of, and that was a lot. He would use these skills and stay true to what he knew, and now, he had a duty to the Order of Assassins. It was his duty to protect the innocent and to bring peace and freedom to people everywhere.

He supposed that now, Connor Kenway would be the man he would have to be. He could not abandon what he had become, not after everything that he had witnessed. Ratonhnhaké:ton was naive enough to believe that his people could ever be truly safe, and perhaps, it was for better that he remain separate. Thinking of them made his mind linger to his mother and father.

He had accepted the fact that his father was not the one responsible for the death of his mother, and in a way, he felt relieved. Although they were clearly not the ideal father and son, they did share an understanding and a respect for each other. Connor had accepted Haytham as his father, and in a way, he would miss him. As for his mother, she was always loving and caring. If could have one thing, it was her company.

He now stood in the cellar of the Homestead. In the aftermath of the war, he had begun to do some major cleaning around the Homestead, continuing to aid the community in whatever capacity he could, for which they were all grateful. They all felt that they owed him, and he did not want them to feel obligated to repay his kindness. He did not required acts of good to continue. Knowing that they were well and that they were keeping their community prosperous and content, that was suffice enough.

The only thing that Connor could really ask of them was to help him renovate Achilles's home, simply help to repair it and do it. They had all gladly begun to pitch in whatever time they had available to help him rebuild the homestead. Slowly, but surely, the place was being rebuilt, bit by bit. With the Templar Order all but dispersed, the Assassins could focus on rebuilding, recruiting, and watching for Templar plots wherever they could.

While doing the renovations for the manor that he now owned. Connor had come across some other hidden items and things of interest. Achilles had left many detailed instructions concerning everything there was to know about the homestead. He truly did appreciate the great lengths that the old men went to make sure he knew what to do.

Connor stared at the wall, where multiple robes stood on their posts. These were the robes of previous Assassins the Achilles mentored before they were all killed, and there were robes. It pained Connor to see these robes, because he now understood why the old man was so reserved, why he did not wish to take him in initially. The old man was worried that he would end up killing yet another. He probably thought himself responsible for their deaths. Connor considered that he ought to give some of these robes to the other recruits. They had earned the right to wear them, and the Master Assassin had always felt that wearing these should be more of a priority due to the symbolic meaning, not to mention the fact that them being here was a reminder that the order was light in numbers.

So much to do, and for once, there was time to do it. A rare statement indeed.

A slight noise alerted him to someone knocking at the door. For a moment, he tensed, then chided himself for being so hasty to action. He briskly walked up the stairs of the hidden room, keeping himself looking composed and sure. He didn't want to potentially risk scaring off anyone, but he didn't want to be caught off guard.

Once he was certain that the hidden basement door was sealed and the lamp lever was in place, Connor walked to the door. He paused at the door, waiting to see if there would be another knock. A three-second pause, then another knock came, this one just as loud as before, which was not particularly loud to begin with.

Deciding that whoever was at the door was nothing too probable to deal with, he opened it. What he didn't expect to find was a little girl, probably no older than thirteen or so. She had yet to develop as she had only just begun to display the qualities that women had. Her brown hair was tied back into a small ponytail. She was small, standing maybe a foot and several inches shorter than himself. Her head was down slightly, so he couldn't really see her face. She appeared to be really fearful as well as timid, her body was sort of curled up like a scared child would.

"Yes," Conner finally said after watching her for about several seconds.

She did not look at him immediately, but Connor did not force her to speak. She would speak when she was ready. She eventually looked up. Her face looked slightly bruised, and a bit blue. Her right eye carried three parallel scars, obviously from claw marks, and recently from the way it bled. Her eyes were a dark blue, very noticeable. She carried a look of anxiety and still fear, but clearly not enough to keep her away from here. She had at least some physical endurance if nothing else.

"Um...I was told to receive training here," she said.

Connor's face betrayed his utter surprise. This had been him so long ago. He had asked Achilles the same thing, but it had taken the better part of a day to finally convince the old man to take him in and train him. It had been a life-changing event, one that made Connor who he was now, and now, another had come forth, a girl this time, and now, it was within his ability to do what Achilles had done so many times in the past.

Connor stood there, arms at his side as he contemplated the girl. He didn't know enough about her, but what he could see was that she clearly needed help. The condition of her clothing was an obvious indication. Connor also noticed that she also appeared somewhat banged up overall, whether from an accident or on purpose, he would need to find out. Whether or not she was injured, he had the people of the homestead to protect, and he would do it to his dying breath.

"Where are you parents," he asked.

"Dead," she answered, hanging her head down. "Long time ago."

"And you have no one else to go to," he inquired.

"I've got no one else," she said, looking on the verge of tears. "I've b-b-been on m-my own for s-seven y-y-years."

Well, if Connor was going to test her, now was not the time to do it. Her words were genuine, and he didn't bother to use eagle vision. He did not have to. She couldn't stand up to him even if she attempted to.

"Come inside and we will speak more," he said.

Her eyes watched his own, the fear seeming to fade away a bit. Maybe she was more afraid of being rejected than being afraid of him, but there must be something else to it.

He motioned for her to enter the homestead, which she did with some reluctance. She took a good look around, not daring to move unless Connor said or motioned for her to do so. It was then that he also noticed a slight limp in her movement, and the Native could see a slightly bloody spot to her torn-up shirt. Letting his compassionate side take over, he instinctively grabbed her arm and began to carry her, but he didn't fully pick her up. He was only offering assistance.

Careful not to jolt her pain, he carefully led her into the kitchen area and set her down on one of the chairs. She slightly grimaced in pain just a bit, Connor set her down on a chair, her back leaning against the table. He needed to get her something to bandage her would and treat the wound.

"What happened," he asked, kneeling down to analyse the wound.

"My stupidness," she said glumly, "got jumped by a wolf. Barely killed it in time."

"You will need at least several days to recover from this wound," Connor said, examining the wound on her side, carefully applying a bandage to the wound, wiping away some blood from her wound.

If she was a fast healer, her full mobility would be back in maybe a week, and at the worst, maybe several weeks. As he finished bandaging her, he took care to note her expressions. Now, she looked far less panicked than before, but still her mind was on something. Connor supposed that now was as good a time as any to get to know the girl a bit.

"What is your name," he questioned.

The silence that followed was a bit alien to Connor. He'd seldom seen people hesitate when asked the same question, but the reply was truthful just the same. Truthful, but many others things as well.

"My name is Elizabeth Lawson."

"Why is it that you have come here?"

"I was told that you could teach me."

A pause.

"Who sent you here," he said.

"A spirit or some sort of hallucination," she spoke.

Connor finished securing the bandage and sat down next to her, the weight of himself and his equipment causing the bench to creak under the weight of his body, his robe, and his weapons and equipment.

"This spirit," he said, "was it female?"

"I don't know," she struggled to say, "the voice, it was strange. I couldn't quite place it."

The Master Assassin was now curious. If it was Juno, than maybe she had yet another task for him. The strange woman had mentioned that in time, Connor would serve yet another purpose, and at the time, he did not understand what it was, but now he had an idea based on this little revelation, but only an idea. Whether it was the same one that Juno referred to, he did not know. It did not allay his concerns and mistrust, however.

Still, he couldn't really apply the same treatment to the girl. She was merely doing what she thought was right, or doing it more out of desperation. It didn't matter. She was here now.

"Do you even know what it is that you seek," Conner continued, "or what it is that your quest has guided you into."

She shook her head. She was just as oblivious as he was when he arrived.

"No."

"I did not think so."

"I don't have anywhere e-else to go, mister," she pleaded, "please don't send me away. I'll do what I have to."

He could send her away easily with money and she would be back to where she was: without any hope. It would be a cruel thing to do, so Connor made his decision, despite carrying a considerable amount of self-doubt about what he was going to do.

"I would not do such a thing, but do you understand what you ask," Connor warned her, "Are you certain that you wish to do this?"

She nodded her head, almost too enthusiastically.

"Be certain about this," he heeded again, "for once done, it cannot be taken back."

She nodded again. Connor sighed mentally.

"I have a story to tell," he began, "and it may be a while. So sit for a while while I prepare a meal and tell you a long story."

Connor stood up to prepare some food from his most recent hunt. There had been a bountiful amount of elk around and he had brought several back to skin and gut for meat and other supplies that the others on the homestead might need. He also prepared some simple soup. It was a straightforward meal, but one that Elizabeth was gracious about eating. As he watched her eat, he could see the feeling of awe, the kind that spoke about her difficult. It appeared that she hadn't eaten proper food in some time. It amazed Connor how she retained a slender figure if she claimed to be alone, but that was a story for another time.

"We are the Order of Assassins, an organization that seeks peace and freedom for all people regardless of ethnicity, race, or religion."

She nodded slowly, taking in his every word.

As Connor spoke, he found himself going into great detail, particularly about the Master Assassins that came before him. He was sure to speak of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, Ezio Auditore da Firenze, and even about his grandfather, Edward Kenway, after having read about his grandfathers adventures across the seas as a feared and known pirate and ultimately becoming part of the Assassins. He spoke of the many Templars that had come and gone, about who they were, where they originated, what they were working towards, where they resided, and for what purpose. Like Achilles, he condensed centuries into but a few hours of talk, but he talked more because he had his own adventures and stories to share as well.

The sun set as he concluded the lesson, but Elizabeth paid attention throughout the entire talk.

"So what now that the Templars are gone," she questioned, "does this mean the Assassins have won?"

"No," Connor answered immediately, "the Templar may have lost the advantage here, but make no mistake, they are tenacious. Others will rise, of that I am certain."

Connor paused to consider that she had not once said any words of confidence or certainty. That did bother him because if she was to become part of the order, then she would have to learn some sort of confidence and faith in her own abilities, but she would also have to be wary of overconfidence and arrogance. They all had to deal with it, even Connor himself had difficulties at times.

"Come with me," he said, standing up, "I have something for you to see."  
>Motioning for her to follow, he took note to see how she responded to coping with injuries without his assistance, and he could see it didn't sit well with her, but she complied nonetheless.<p>

Connor led her towards the hidden entrance. As he pulled the lamp lever and opened the door, she was taken a bit off guard. He began to descend the stairs, and she followed, albeit slowly due to her recently-bandaged injuries. As he reached the floor, he watched her limp down. As she took in the room, her eyes were drawn to the robes adorning the wall. Connor felt amused slightly. The robes were always sort of alluring in some way or form to just about everyone, and Elizabeth was no different.

The girl stood before one robe that was specifically fit for a woman. This one belonged to an Assassin whose name was Hope. She was a strong-willed and very independent woman according to Achilles. He had no doubt that they all were good students. At least most of them.

Elizabeth observed, but did not touch anything, but the Native could tell that she wanted to, so he decided to speak up before she did anything else.

"I would ask that you not touch those," he said neutrally, "those are a special symbol of the order."

"Right," she said, her hands jerking back. She looked a bit ashamed.

"Elizabeth," he began.

She turned to face him.

"I can see that you have potential, and you are seeking purpose in your life. This is not my decision to make. It is yours. If you accept this training, then I will share in our skills and knowledge."

Now the girl was thinking deeply. Connor had to press the issue of whether she felt that she truly wanted to be here. She did not really seem the type to have a strong conviction, but then again, had Achilles not also thought the same of Connor as a child?

Be that as it may, this was another situation entirely. This girl had been on her own, and therefore, Connor was concerned that she had no sense of helping others. Children having to fend for themselves usually did not think about others. Connor had developed his morality from his young childhood days, and he still held onto them. Elizabeth, by contrast, showed no such things, but could he really place blame on her as such? An orphaned child forced to survive without any sort of help and an orphaned child who had been taken in by fellow tribesmen were two different stories.

Connor knew that his sense of justice came from his mother's death, and that perhaps had the village not burned, he might not be what he was today. Elizabeth was not the same as he. Having no one to look up to would probably result in a person to be more considerate of themselves, but not for selfish reason. To preserve her own life was what she likely did this for, if she exhibited these kinds of personalities. Connor could only speculate about what kind of person she was.

She nodded her head slowly, her eyes meeting his own.

"Very well," Connor confirmed, "I will train you, and we shall see if you are worthy to bear the title of Assassin and all the privileges and responsibilities that it means."

She lit up almost instantly. That was another thing he would watch out for. Being an Assassin was not something to always smile about, but it was not really his place to tell her that now. She only needed to know certain things now.

"We begin your training tomorrow. Because your wounds still require time to heal, I will begin your lessons of the mind and prepare some studying for you to read and interpret."

The slump of her shoulders told me that she was not one to read and to do it patiently, but like it or not, the history of the order as well as the mental lessons were just as important as physical training. Her young age gave her an advantage as she would be getting years of prior experience and knowledge to guide her into the deadly world.

"I will show you to a bedroom," he explained to her, "perhaps you should rest. Training begins early tomorrow."

She nodded.

"I will do my best...um," she stuttered.

"My name is…Connor Kenway," he said. "or mentor if you wish. Either one is approved by me."

The Master Assassin now felt himself slipping further away from Ratonhnhaké:ton, but what choice did he have? He now had a student, and the notion of this frightened him in a way, but also excited him in another. No time for regrets.

Seeing that Elizabeth was still clearly not going to have an easy time making it up the stairs, he gently picked her up and began to carry her up the stairs and up the next set of stairs. Making his way into the bedroom, he carefully set her down onto the bed. This was once his room, but he had since moved in downstairs in the office. In any case, she seemed to just fall asleep so easily. She must have not slept for a while, that or she was exhausted. Taking care to not wake her, he quietly slipped out of the room. closing the door behind him.

Now, he had other things to do. For starters, he needed to get some equipment ready to go. In addition, he had to begin planning her physical training. He knew of a place in the forest where she could train. He would also create some obstacle courses as well as testing her ability to sprint and run for long distances. He would also need to strengthen her up a bit. She looked normal, but she needed to be better than normal.

What else did the girl require? Well, for starters, she needed some more proper clothes to wear, and unfortunately, there was very little female clothing that Connor could offer her. He would have to ask Ellen for some. She was efficient and rapid with her work as Connor had noticed when visiting her. If anyone could help him, she would know. Perhaps he would also ask her about to best begin a relationship with the girl. He was certainly not a conversationalist, and he did not want to be. Whenever he spoke, he spoke exactly what he wanted to say. He did not mince words and he did not hide any intentions.

Once he was outside, took to the steps to the dirt road. He paused to look back at the house. Apart from some candles, there was no activity. He shook his head. He was already worried for the girl. She would be fine.

Connor took to sprinting along the path, along the way, passing by a few faces of the other people living on the Homestead. He passed by Godfrey and Terry as they were heading for a drink. He stopped to greet them out of genuine kindness. He had not seen much of the people living on the Homestead for quite some time. He needed to reconnect.

"Connor," Godfrey explained, "haven't seen yer in a while, mate. What's the big hurry?"

"I must speak with Ellen," Connor explained, his hands behind his back, "I have need of her services. I have recently begun to shelter a girl named Elizabeth Lawson. I need to see to it that she has proper clothing as well as some other amenities."

"Well, I'll be damned," Terry responded, "didn't take you as the type to be taking in kids."

"She was injured and deprived of proper food and water," Connor elaborated, "I had to help her, and now she will be training under me."

"Well," Godfrey said, "you ever need helping with being a parent, we're here for ya."

Connor seemed a bit put off by being called a parent. He did not see himself as such, and parenting only reminded him of his own parents, both dead, and while he was not on the absolute best terms with his father, he could say that Haytham had not killed his mother. He forgave his father for that. Perhaps he did care for the man more than he cared to admit. If he was not a Templar. things might have been different. Connor steadied himself before returning to the conversation.

"I appreciate your offer," Connor replied, "and I will keep it in mind should I require the help."

With a nod and a quick smile, Connor took off in a sprint again.

It had been a simple errand to attend to. Once Connor had explained his situation to Ellen, the same thing he said to Godfrey and Terry. It was no secret that he was an important figure in the American Revolution, but that was the extend that everyone knew of him. All everyone knew was that he fought with the Patriots. They did not need to know about the Assassins and Templars, and he would keep it that way for as long as possible.

Ellen had been more than generous to help him, and she seemed surprised that Connor had chosen to taken in a girl and become her new guardian, but the woman did not doubt that Connor would do everything in his power to keep Elizabeth safe. Connor had kept them all safe and and assisted them all in their time of greatest need. The Master Assassin did not ask Ellen for help in regards on how to treat Ellen.

The man felt that if he was to raise her as an Assassin, he would have to watch her, to learn for himself, and to let her learn. Elizabeth needed to learn for herself, but his softer side spoke otherwise. When it came to children, Connor found himself unable to really treat them harshly in any way whatsoever. He might scold them and remind them what to do and what not to do, but never anything serious, and Elizabeth was still a child to him.

The Native sighed. It was a long road, and he prayed that he was doing the right thing.

**This will be my first attempt at Assassin's Creed. I got this idea while finishing up Assassin's Creed III, and the last conversation between Connor and Juno made me think of this. **

**If you guys believe this story to be a good idea, then REVIEW! Tell me the good things and the bad things. Remember, the more reviews I get, the more I'll be motivated to write this story.**

**If anyone cares to be a beta reader, then please PM me and we'll talk. Story ideas can also be PMed to me as well.**

**Keep in mind that this story may or may not be updated on a consistent basis, but I'll try as best as I can.**

**Hope you all liked it, and remember, only we ourselves can guard against our own demons and desires. No one else will.**

**Peace out!**


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